Witch of the Wilds
by Iskah81
Summary: If Alistair and Morrigan had romance dialogue with each other, it may have sounded something like this. One-shot


_A/N: Here's my take if you were able to have an Alistair/Morrigan romance in game. _

_Side note: smote or smited? Couldn't decide so went with spellcheck – smote it is._

_Obvious disclaimer is obvious….Bioware owns all._

_Alistair POV_

"So, have you ever…." He waggled an eyebrow at her, not put off at all by her glare. He relished every chance at getting under her skin, and would not back down from this one.

"Have I…what? Is it your Templar training that makes you so inarticulate, or is it just a natural talent?"

Their relationship, and he used that term in the loosest sense possible, had been fraught with mistrust and tension and it had taken a concerted effort on his part to settle it into this tentative truce.

She might sneer at him, poke at him, and mock him, yet, somehow he could sense beneath that cold exterior a lonely and frightened girl. It was because of this, these brief flashes of humanity, that he was inexplicably pulled to her and sought to draw out whatever it was she was trying to protect, however unpleasant it often turned out to be.

"Have _you _ever been smote by a Templar in winter?" He attempted to inject as much innuendo into his voice as he could. Nothing unnerved Morrigan more than talk of feelings and emotions and relationships.

"What does the season have to do with anything?" She was trying to pretend she didn't understand, but the faint pink staining her cheeks gave it away.

"Dear lady, you know exactly what I mean. So, have you…?"

They were sitting around her fire, as somehow was their habit. So often they said nothing and passed the hours in silence, but he enjoyed that almost as much as teasing her. Almost.

Long moments of silence passed, but he continued to look at her. He wasn't going to leave without an answer.

"No," she finally burst, "no, I haven't been smote by a Templar, in any season, let alone winter. Happy?"

"Good," he replied, surprised at the admission, yet heartened by it, "I hear it can be quite unpleasant. I myself have also never had the chance to do it. That. Smiting. Not that I haven't thought of it of course, " he hastily assured her, "it's just, you know…"

"No opportunity?"

"No, " he answered slowly, caught by the golden sheen of her eyes in the firelight

"Well, I am a mage and you are a templar, so perhaps your opportunity is closer than you think." This time, it was he who dropped his eyes, a blush flooding his face.

"I'll…ah…have to keep that in mind."

_Morrigan POV_

"Here, do you know what this is?" Alistair, once again, invaded her camp and her privacy.

Irritated at the interruption, even more so at the thrill the sight of him gave her, Morrigan answered more sharply than she intended. "Is this some fool Templar trick? It's a book. Don't let the small words strain your eyes."

"Look closer, it's not just any book." Discomfited by his nearness, wanting to put space between them, she grabbed the book and stepped around the fire in order to see it better. Her jaw dropped.

"This…this is my mother's grimoire! Where did you find it?"

Looking inordinately pleased with himself, he told her the story of finding it in the Tower. She had thought it might have been in there, but she had not wanted to ask him to look for it, not wanted to put herself in a vulnerable position of asking for a favour. Realizing she would have to thank him for this, and uncomfortable at having to do so she looked up to see that he had circled around the fire as well.

She had never been so close to him before, he was much larger than she thought. The firelight flickered across his face as he studied her intently. It suddenly seemed silly just to say thanks, and she thought instead perhaps she would kiss his cheek. Then she wouldn't have to say anything at all. But as she tipped her head up to his cheek, his head tipped down and instead their lips met.

Shocked, she moved her arms to push him away, but somehow found them encircling his waist instead. His own arms lightly yet insistently pressed her even closer against the warmth of his body. It seemed to last forever, yet too soon he was releasing her, stepping away, his eyes locked on hers, a small smile creasing the corners of his lips. Lips she could still feel against her own.

"You're welcome."

_Morrigan POV_

Morrigan had no patience for this. Why he wanted her along of all people, she didn't know.

"Grow up Alistair. It's time you learned that everyone is always, _always_, out for themselves. The sooner you accept this, the better." She couldn't stand the pain in his eyes and turned her back on him. When he made no response, she reluctantly turned back, but he had gone.

Sighing, she made her way back to her room at the Gnawed Noble. She had no desire to be out in the press of the market by herself.

Time seemed to drag on as she waited in the common room for his return. As night fell and the crowd grew rowdier, she gave up and headed for her room.

She had just finished bathing for the night when the knock sounded at her door. Gripping her towel, she opened it and found Alistair on the other side, his characteristic smirk absent from his lips. Silently, she stepped aside and let him enter.

Crossing over to the hearth, he folded his arms on the mantle and propped his head in his hands.

"I thought about what you said." He started without preamble. "About looking out for myself." She remained silent, not wanting to have to apologize for hurting him.

"You were right." She started in surprise, she had expected him to argue about her lack of compassion in his time of need. Most of their conversations were variations of that.

"I am going to start looking out for myself. Go after what I want and not let other people decide for me." He had turned himself around now and was staring at her fixedly.

"That's good…." She started to say cautiously, still wary that some argument would manifest itself.

"I want you." He interrupted her.

"What?"

He crossed the room in two strides and pulled her into his embrace. "You heard me, Morrigan. I'll not repeat myself." He mouth descended on hers, preventing any protest she might have made.

"Alistair," she breathed, pushing him away slightly, aware of exactly how breathless she sounded, "You don't mean this, you're angry, upset about your sister, you don't want this…me."

"Yes, I do. Every time I'm around you I feel as if my head's about to explode, I can't think straight. Being near you makes me crazy, but I don't want to be apart from you, not now, not ever. Even though you've never given me any encouragement, I don't think I'm imagining things." He took a deep breath and looked at her squarely, face as open and honest as it has ever been. "So, tell me I'm fooling myself, Morrigan, and I'll leave. Just say the word."

This was foolish and stupid. She never meant any of this to happen; she was merely here to perform a function, not get wrapped up in his talk of feelings and emotions. She opened her mouth to tell him to go but instead found herself opening her arms and heart to him. He crushed her against his chest and she felt his heart hammering beneath her ear, just as she felt rather than heard his next words.

"So I fooled you, did I? Good to know."


End file.
